He took her hand. "It's this. What I told your father and mother about going by the five o'clock train is true. I am going. It's nearly four now. It's time to be starting back. I am going. Look, here's my ticket."
Wonderingly she looked at it, and at him. "Oh, you can't be?"
"I am. There's the ticket. Essie, look. Here's yours."
She almost laughed. She looked at his face and the impulse was checked. But she said half-laughingly, her brows prettily puckered: "Oh, whatever? Is it a game, dear, you're having?"
"No, it's no game. It's very serious. I'm going—for good. Not coming back—ever."
She made a little distressful motion with her hands. "Oh, Arthur, don't go on so, dear. Whatever can you mean?"
"I mean just what I say. I'm going—at five o'clock." He stopped and looked intently into her wondering, her something shadowed, eyes. He said: "Essie, are you coming with me?"
This time she laughed. It obviously was a game! A little ring of her clear and merry laughter, and her eyes that always sparkled, that had been shadowed, sparkling anew. "Oh, if you oughtn't to be an actor on the stage! If you didn't half frighten me, though!" and she laughed again. "Why, how could I come? Why, we're not married yet!"
Now!
He put an arm about her and drew her to him. "Don't let me frighten you, Essie. Trust me. Trust me. Come with me, Essie. I'll take care of you. I'll love you always. You'll never regret it—not a moment. You know what I can do for you—everything you want. You know how happy we'll be—happy, happy."